


The Touch of a Blade

by orphan_account



Category: Carmilla - All Media Types, Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla is a Shadowhunter, the blood of the angels within her veins, and whilst she's hunting demons, Laura is lost in a world oh so foreign to her. </p><p>Frightened and confused on the dark streets of London, Laura realizes just how powerful and incredible Carmilla truly is.</p><p>(Carmilla/The Infernal Devices crossover. Though you do not need to have any knowledge of the Infernal Devices prior to this fic by any means.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Institute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura is cold and frightened on the streets of London, when a demon crawls out of the mist and tries to claim her. 
> 
> Carmilla, however, is a Shadowhunter, a slayer of demons if there ever was one, and she's not having any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick FAQ for dear readers
> 
> 1) Do you need to have read the Infernal Devices series for this to make any sense?
> 
> Nope! Naddah! Not today! Or any day for that matter. Any terms used in the book will be explained in the fic itself. 
> 
> 2) Is it a full crossover between The Infernal Devices/Carmilla?
> 
> Nope! Naddah! Not today! (am I being repetitive?) The only thing I've taken from the Infernal Devices is the world of Shadowhunters and their London Institute. All characters will be Carmilla characters only.
> 
> 3) Why this crossover?
> 
> Because one day, a girl with raven hair crept into my window and said "Tabitha, if you don't get off your ass and make a crossover fic with the Infernal Devices, you shall never be allowed another fruit cocktail again." As a human who is rather fond of fruit cocktails, I thought it only rational that I oblige.

**December 13 th, 1894**

The demon exploded, leaving a crashing wave of guts and blackness in its death as it faded into the mist on the dark ground beneath it.

Carmilla wiped her blade clean on her black pants, leaving it shiny and dazzling in the streetlights above. But not new, never new. At least, not anymore.

This blade had been with her since she was only five years old. Now twenty, she could barely leave the Institute without it. It was like a limb, a part of her, whilst other children had blankets and toys, she had this blade, and she would never part with it.

She placed the item in question back into her belt buckle, where it rightfully belonged, before hearing a muffled whimper at her feet.

The demon hunter extended an arm, offering for the girl below on the ground to take her hand.

“It’s ok, it’s gone now, nothing but air and dust.” Carmilla offered.

The girl was hesitant at first, but only at first, because she decided that whatever that thing was that just tried to eat her alive, it sure as hell would have done just that if the girl with the raven hair hadn’t stopped it first.

She wasn’t here to hurt her, she was here to save her.

The timid girl had eyes of honey and her hair was brown and still quite neat given the circumstances. The circumstance of almost-being-eaten-by-some-creature-from-another-world-before-a-rather-attractive-wait-incredibly-attractive-girl-with-dark-hair-shows-up-from-the-fog-like-some-badass-warrior-goddess-and-slices-the-creature-in-a-dash-and-a-sway-like-it-was-no-big-deal circumstance.

She glanced up at the girl with dark hair, and decided it was ok to take her hand.

Carmilla took the girls weight, propping her up but being careful as to not get too close, she was already spooked enough.

“What’s your name, cutie?”

She hesitated once again, was this girl flirting with her already? Did she just think that she could walk into the street before her, slice open some god-forsaken creatures neck, and then have her fall into her arms and have them dash off into the sunset?

Well, judging by the way her breathing caught when she saw this girl who had just saved her, and how even her posture made her melt, she was probably right.

“Laura, my names Laura.”

                                                                                                          ****

Carmilla wasn’t sure how it happened, or even why, she wasn’t one to take pity on strangers, particularly ones she found to be quite adorable, but she was in the back of the carriage on the way back to the Institute, and she wasn’t alone.

The girl, who insisted she be called Laura despite various attempts from Carmilla to call her otherwise, was sitting in the seat beside, staring out the window into the dark expanse beyond with nothing but streetlights to illuminate her face.

The demon hunter had made one simple observation, this girl was hopeless in the current situation, with nowhere to go, and no one to offer assistance.

Now Carmilla hated charity, but she also hated the idea of leaving her out on the streets at night in the freezing cold, after all she had just saved her and it would be rather unfortunate and annoying if another demon decided to attack the girl and this time succeeded in eating her. Tonight would be a waste of time if that was the case.

So here they were, in the back of the carriage, driver in front, and Laura was staring out the window.

She hadn’t attempted to make conversation, and Carmilla supposed she couldn’t blame her. Her hands were still shaking and her body was tense and rigid, and she could tell she was trying her hardest not to cry.

Part of Carmilla wished she was good at the whole comforting another thing, but she decided that in this instance, there wasn’t a lot she could do. She was a stranger to Laura after all, a stranger who had just mutilated a creature in front of her like it was nothing.

Did Laura think she was a monster for what she had done?

Her thoughts were halted when the carriage followed suit and came to a stop. They had arrived at their destination.

Typically the Institute could not be seen with human eyes, or as hunters called them, mundanes, but Carmilla made sure that Laura would be able to see the building by removing its glamour lest she wish to scare the girl even more by asking her to come inside a building that didn’t seem to actually be there.

“We’re here” Carmilla said quietly, almost as if speaking loudly would startle the brown haired girl like a tawny owl.

The demon hunter stepped out first, giving the owl-like girl space to do so in her own time afterwards.

Laura took one foot out, and then the other followed suit, Carmilla took her hand and helped her down from the carriage step.

“Thanks, Carmilla.” She said timidly, looking briefly at the girl in front of her before diverting her gaze to the incredibly beautiful building before her.

The Institute.

                                                                                                            ****

There were so many questions Laura wanted to ask, so much she wanted to know, but alas, she was tired and weak and simply wanted to go to wherever it was this girl was taking her so that she could be alone and cry.

One moment she was with her father, the next he was taken away from her, literally snatched from her grasp, and now she was in some mansion that left her unsettled with a girl that made her even more so at times despite her having an oddly comforting feel to her. In a place like this, Carmilla was the most familiar part.

The walls were lined with swords, blades, and weaponry she couldn’t name. What was this place, and who was Carmilla? Was she in some sort of cult? Was she an ax murderer? No, she couldn’t be, she had saved her. And she had been nothing but polite and chivalrous. But was she simply doing that so that she could claim her as her own and then eat her later and burp her up in the early hours of the morning like some three star meal?

Like she said, there were so many questions she wanted to ask, and so much she wanted to know, but if she was in the home of an ax murderer then so be it, because right now, she simply wanted to cry.

                                                                                                           ****

“You can stay here for the night, bathrooms just down the hall, sorry there’s not one in the room, Cupcake, but all of the rooms with toilets in have already been taken.”

Laura admired her surroundings, the room was simply magnificent, it was incredibly sizeable, and spacious, and the furniture, though old, had a pleasant vibe to it, homely in fact.

The walls were lined with red, a dark cherry red, and it was laced with bricks that led down to a small fireplace in the middle of the room.

It was rather strange that Carmilla had apologized for the lack of bathroom, she was a guest, a stranger even, and what was that about all the rooms with toilets being taken? Who else was living here? Were they also ax murderers that liked to save young scared looking girls from creatures of the night?

So many questions.

As if on cue, Carmilla took the words right off her tongue.

“I’m sure you have plenty of questions about what you saw tonight, but I think it’s best that we leave it for now. It’s been a long day, and all of us will be happy to answer your questions in the morning. Until then, get some rest, cutie. Goodnight.”

_All of us?_

If Laura was being honest, she wanted the question of ‘who is us’ answered rather swiftly, but she wasn’t going to argue with the girl, particularly as she had a blade sheathed in her belt, but also because she was rather quite kind now that she thought about it.

So she simply did what she thought was rational, and nodded politely.

“Goodnight, Carmilla.”

The girl took her leave, and Laura was left in the great expanse of the bedroom alone. Once she had stood by the door, listening for any nearby voices to find that there was nothing but silence, she immediately threw herself down on the bed, and cried.


	2. Quiet Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura bites the bullet, and steps out of her room.

  Laura awoke to tears that had now stained her dry cheeks. Her skin was dry, and her hands were cold where they had not found their home underneath the sheets that lined the bed.

For a moment, just that one moment, she had forgotten where she was, who she had met. She was at home, her father was making breakfast, and as the smell of fresh bread lingered in the air he took a step back from the tableside and picked up his newspaper.

And then the walls closed in, and mutterings lingered in the air just like the bread had once been, and she was in a large room with dark walls and weapons and cold skin that told no lies.

Her father was gone. Where he was, she did not know. For she wasn’t even sure where _she_ was. The Institute they had called it. A grand building with spires and moss and all things royal without the charm. A pleasant sight, yet a peculiar one.

And then there was Carmilla, whom of which could be described with similar attributes, a pleasant yet peculiar sight. Her eyebrows arched like buildings, and though she was short it was like her legs went on for days like a long hallway.

Laura couldn’t help but wonder if this girl knew what it was like to smell fresh bread, to pick up a newspaper instead of a weapon. Alas, her questions would be answered today, as promised, but that would most likely not be one of them.

Lost in thought, she had almost forgotten the faint mutterings coming from somewhere beyond her door. Part of her told her to keep out of it, leave these people be, and the other half, the half that seemed so much more dominant, told her to open the door just a crack, take a listen, for all she knew these people could be plotting to murder her and eat _her_ for breakfast instead of fresh bread, and well, she figured she had the right to know if such events were going to occur.

So it was settled, she would take a listen.

She propped herself up on the bed, paused for just a moment, before angling her legs to the side of the bed, and standing up. Motioning herself over towards the door, she was as silent as a mouse, ensuring that no one would be able to hear her. God forbid these people come into her quarters when she was barely dressed and her skin was all blotchy from crying. No, she wanted a little more time to herself before anything like that came into play.

Laura opened the door as silently as she could possibly muster, peeking the left side of her face out into the hall so that she could faintly hear what was being said. Just about anyway.

“Honestly, Carmilla, what possessed you, no pun intended, to bring some strange girl into our home? Nay, not just our home, I mean, our…secrets are here. Everything that makes us…us is here. It’s just not good enough, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.”

The voice was rather light, rather giddy considering. It had a rather musical tone and it didn’t take a genius to know that this girl with the musical voice was talking about her.

“Perry, where else was she going to go? I don’t think she even knows how to get home. She’s already seen a demon now, there’s no cure to that. What’s done is done, our secrets are hardly an issue anymore. She knows what tried to kill her isn’t human, isn’t from this world.”

“Yes but she’s human, Carmilla! Can’t you see that? She has no magical talent, no angel blood running through her veins. She’s a mundane! And we all know mundanes are not destined for this particular world. She has to go.”

There was a slight pause, which if anything, was beneficial on Laura’s part. It gave her time to process everything that had just occurred. She has to _go_? Go where go? To her grave go? Or take her leave in a carriage go? It was a rather important thing to find out! Also, that woman had just called her human, as if it was strange, as if she was the minority in this place because of that fact. And the worst part, the part that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge, if they weren’t human, what were they?

What was Carmilla? What _is_ Carmilla?

The conversation continued.

“If I could just weigh in here….” A new voice. “OK, so as of yesterday, this Laura girl has seen a demon, maybe she doesn’t know what it is just yet but she knows it’s something…unnatural. Now, she’s upstairs, she’s seen the Institute, she knows there’s something going on here. We can either tell her the truth, and possibly come out of this seeming like fairly upstanding members of a crazy society, or she can go on thinking that we’re basically the Manson family that goes around killing people with our extensive weapon collection.”

Laura decided she liked this person.

“I’m with Laf on this one.” The voice belonged to Carmilla. “They’re right, and you know it. There’s no getting out of this. Laura’s seen everything. So we might as well just tell her the truth.”

Silence followed, and Laura could only hope that the reason for said silence was because they were nodding in agreement. God forbid it be the other option, that they were motioning a knife across their necks for effect as if to say “that’s it then, we’ll have to kill her.”

Laura decided she had done enough snooping for one day. She stepped away from the door, closing it as silently as she had opened it, and walked over to the nearby closet. Her original plan was to put on the clothes she had worn yesterday, or rather, last night. That was before she realized that they were caked in blood, or what she believed to be blood. It was black, and spongy, and had an awful consistency to it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something she wanted to wear as an outfit.

Beside her spongy demon clothes of death was a rather petite dress, it was elegant and refined and to her liking if she was being honest, and it looked about the right size. She took it out of the closet and laid it out on the bed.

Part of her desperately wanted a bath after last night’s activities, but this place was still so foreign to her and it wouldn’t surprise her if blood came out of the faucets.

So she would simply place the lovely dress on her dirty black blooded body, and hope and pray that it wasn’t the last outfit she would ever wear.

When the deed was done, she decided she could no longer stay in this room forever. She had to face the music sometime, and if these people tried to kill her, well, she supposed they should just get it over with, god forbid she be impolite and keep them waiting for their morning snack.

She opened the door slowly, her hands shaking with fear as if they knew something she didn’t. As if they knew what was about to happen. She cursed them for showing on the outside how she truly felt on the inside. And then, she took a deep breath, before stepping out into the expanse beyond.

The hallway was long, and dark, and slightly different from how she had remembered, which could possibly be due to the fact that she thought she was being led to her own execution and was a little distracted. These things aside, she wasn’t sure anything had changed.

She slowly chased the sound of mutterings until she found herself at a staircase, she followed it down. It was long and winding, the handrails black like the décor. _It was like a family of vampires lived here_ , she thought. It was so unusual to be in such an environment when all she knew was bright walls and vibrant canvases.

It was another world entirely.

When the staircase reached its end, Laura knew exactly where the source of the mutterings had come from. The door was closed, and she couldn’t tell whether that was a bad thing, or a good thing.

It was good because she had time to compose herself first before stepping into the lion’s den. And it was bad because she couldn’t in fact see what she was stepping into. For all she knew she could be stepping into a literal den of lion’s.

She took one step towards the door, before wiping her palms on her new dress that for all she knew could be some victims garments that the tenants of this strange mansion decided to keep as some sort of sick trophy after murdering them. The anticipation would kill her if they didn’t first, so she opened the door.

Laura didn’t need to break the silence before someone else decided to for her.

“Well well well, look who’s come to join us for breakfast.” A smirk laced her lips.

It was Carmilla.


	3. The Scepticism of Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note - Laura only finds LaFontaine's attire odd because this is the Victorian era. In those days, it might have been fairly questionable. But nowadays we know it's badass and all things magnificent.

Despite being a party to the recent events that occurred, Carmilla couldn’t quite believe what was in front of her. There was Laura, covered in demon blood, in an old dress that probably also needed washing. The hunter had been so sure that this timid girl would attempt to sneak out during the night, or possibly even in the morning should she be so brave. But she never would have thought she would jump straight into breakfast with a bunch of strangers that collected weapons that looked more used than most.

It had to be said, Carmilla liked her spirit.

“Take a seat, erm, Laura is it? Yes, yes, Laura. Sit down, please.” Perry chimed.

Carmilla thought it almost amusing that despite the situation at hand, Perry still kept her manners, her words of frills and all things high pitched.

The bloodied girl obliged, taking a seat on a nearby stool.

It hadn’t been sat in for years, for it was tiny, and uncomfortable, and made them all look rather like Hobbits which was deemed to be unflattering. But as Laura sat there, frightened and trembling, the tiny stool, if anything, seemed perfectly normal.

The girl fidgeted, running her hands over her new dress and then slowly moving them up to her hair. Carmilla felt obligated to break the silence until Laura decided to for her.

“Listen if you guys are like planning on eating me for something then I’d rather you get it over with now, don’t wait until supper by all means just have at it, get your pitchforks and knifes out and whatever it is that’s used to eat people with and…is that bread on the table? Fresh bread? Are you planning on having me on toast?”

LaFontaine slowly raised an eyebrow in confusion whilst Perry put on a pout that could stare down even the bravest of men.

And Carmilla simply burst into laughter.

“I…I’m so confused.” Perry exclaimed. “Why does she think we’re cannibals?”

Carmilla took a step closer to the girl, she flinched at first, but only at first, placing a hand down on her shoulder.

“Listen, cupcake, if we wanted to eat you we would have done it already. I was starving last night. Besides, you wouldn’t really go very far I mean you’re tiny.”

The girl on the stool pouted, taking in the dark haired girl’s words and expelling them like some foreign sickness.

“Firstly, I am not that tiny, I am of fairly average height for someone my age thank you very much, and secondly, cupcake? _Cupcake?_ So you’re not going to eat me but you can name me after an edible treat?”

Carmilla smiled before responding, finding it amusing that the girl was fighting to defend her height on a tiny Hobbit stool in a dress made for an older child.

“You know, cupcakes aren’t just an edible treat, they are delicious too.” She winked.

Laura grimaced, disgusted by Carmilla’s latest retort, but decided that she wanted answers nonetheless.

“Well, as pleasant as this conversation has been, I’d like to know what the frilly hell is going on here. Are you witches, are you vampires? Are you a religious cult?”

LaFontaine decided to take the reins, their response calm, and collected.

“Ok, firstly, don’t compare us to vampires, we keep a truce with them but that’s it, witches are so last century, and do we honestly look like the type of people to sit and read the bible together to you?”

Laura hardly knew how to respond, it was so much information in such a tiny sentence. Regardless, her opinion of this person remained, she found them rather interesting. Their attire was elegant, refined, and handsome. They sported a bow-tie and suspenders which struck Laura as odd, but pleasant at the same time. They were marble and fire, they were a sword in murky waters.

She stared directly back into their soul as she simply muttered three words in the form of a question.

“Vampires are real?”

It was Carmilla that took this question, sitting beside Laura as she spoke. Though not on a tiny stool.

“You saw a monster yesterday, a demon in fact, yet you’re questioning the existence of vampires? Get your head out of the gutter, creampuff.”

It was crazy, Laura thought, but Carmilla was correct. She had seen a creature of some sort as she lay on the ground last night begging for someone to save her. And that creature was obviously not one you often saw at the local zoo.

The girl was tired, she had slept but she was tired. If anything, she was done with questions, she just wanted answers, she wanted her father back. If he was still alive that was. Before she knew it, tears were welling up in her eyes and she desperately wished for home.

She felt a hand grace her shoulder, and then her arm, as she was gently lifted from the stool. Her arm in turn became linked with Carmilla’s, as she was led upstairs and back to her room.

The door opened with a rusty squeal, almost as if the building itself was protesting its own existence. She placed herself on the bed before the raven haired girl took a seat beside her on the same bed.

“Listen, I’m not good with comforting people, at all, and in fact it’d probably be better if Perry came up here with you or whatever but, I can tell you what’s happening, and if you don’t want to hear it, then you don’t have to. The choice is yours, cupcake.”

Laura sighed into the words, before nodding. “I want to hear it. All of it.”

And so Carmilla told her.

“We’re Shadowhunters. We kill demons. Things not from this world. Vampires? Yeah they’re real, but we call them downworlders. They’re in line with the werewolves and warlocks. We have a truce. They don’t come near us. We don’t go near them. Another thing you’ll probably want to talk about. But in short, all the stories are true. Monsters, evil spirits, they’re real, kid. Just like you, like me, as real as the clothes on your back, the blood on your dress. We’re the good guys, we save mundanes like you.”

“I’m kinda tired of hearing that word. Mundanes. What does it even mean? If you’re not a ‘mundane’ like me, what are you? We look the same, sound the same. We are the same, aren’t we?” Laura replied, before realizing that Carmilla did not in fact know that she had heard the word ‘mundanes’ on more than one occasion. When she was listening in to their private conversation.

“Oh…so you were listening, huh, creampuff? Braver than I thought.” Carmilla smirked, impressed. “Well, here’s the big reveal. I’m not like you. I’m not a mundane. I have the angel’s blood in me. I’m part of the Nephilim. You however are all human my little friend. A mundane.”

“This all just sounds like some crazy story that I would have dreamed about when I was a child. Fighting battles, wanting to be something more. But all I want right now is to find my dad. I can’t be here right now.”

Laura couldn't help but think of the times as a child when her father would tuck her in, and kiss her forehead, and proceed to check under the bed without the small girl above it having to say a single word about asking him to. For he knew that she believed monsters to be so very real, the formations of imagery so clear in her mind, so real you could frame them. And suddenly there they were, almost literal frames, in her own personal frame of mind, in rooms and walls she had just found slumber in. 

But her father had not been there to check. And his scepticism of monsters could never keep them at bay like a knife to the chest did. 

And when her past self had only wanted to be something more, her current somethings had turned into longings, and she longed for her father.

Carmilla gradually placed her hand onto Laura’s, stroking her thumb, and offering her comfort that the girl missed oh so deeply.

“We’ll find your dad, _I’ll_ find your dad.”

“You promise?” Laura asked, desperate for sincerity.

“I promise, Laura.”

Carmilla did not know quite why she promised it, or even if she could achieve such a task, but in that moment, she knew that the promise of a promise was enough for the girl sat next to her.

Laura relaxed under the light touch of the girls hand, realizing that she was relieved that Carmilla, and Carmilla alone, had taken her upstairs.

 

 

 


End file.
